Keeping Things Sexy, Even When We’re Apart

I’m standing in front of the mirror topless trying to take a sexy picture to send to my husband. I say “trying” because I’m taking a multitude of pictures and not happy with any of them. As I’m scrolling through photos I see something I have never noticed before. When on earth did my breasts become so asymmetrical? What kind of fresh hell is this? I swear this was not as apparent in my twenties. What on earth is happening here? I look in the mirror regularly, but I swear things look different from behind the lens of a camera.

I was trying to be a sexy wife and now sexy wife has departed the room. I delete the photos and just settle on a suggestive text instead. At least I thought I was deleting the photos. I didn’t realize that my iPhone kept deleted photos in its own designated deleted folder. It is surprising when you see your own nipple staring back at you from a picture you assumed was gone forever. Don’t even get me started on photo streaming for Apple products (nipples shared to all of your Apple devices!). I stop with boob pics because I don’t ever feel it’s necessary to send any photos of things happening below the belly button. I won’t be sending any crack photos anytime soon because no. I give kudos to all of the ladies who share full body nudes. You go girl! I’ll sit out on the sidelines for that one.

So like I said earlier, I decide to send my husband a text message instead of unsatisfactory pics. I won’t repeat exactly what it said, but it was an X-rated version of wanting him home. All was good and I hit send, satisfied I had made my point. Little did I know that a few minutes before, Oilman had handed his phone off to an IT person to set up company email. This was all great timing, let me tell you. My husband wasn’t the first person to get my text message, George the IT guy was. He stammered something about receiving a text and quickly gave the phone back to Oilman. I’m just thankful that I decided not to send photos and George didn’t get an eyeful of my chest region. Oilman and I both thought the situation was funny. I would prefer for other people to not see the text messages I send my husband, however we are married and married people have sex. This stuff happens and I assume George has seen much worse.

The truth is that if you were to look at the private text message exchanges between my husband and me, the sexy stuff isn’t the primary thing. It is there, but not the main focus. If someone wanted to see what my marriage was really like, then our text message banter would show you. Our message history displays two people in love who spend a lot of time apart. Last night I sent Oilman not one, not two, but THREE separate videos of our dog playing with his new chew toy. We thought it was hilarious, anyone else outside of the two of us would think it was stupid. Our texts are mainly jokes, sexual innuendos, memes, heavy sarcasm, GIFs, too much usage of the f-bomb, and daily minutiae (i.e. did you pay the water bill????).

Our messages are a reflection of what marriage and family life truly is. It looks like a picture of cleavage sandwiched in between fart jokes and information about what bills were paid today. This is me keeping things sexy while we are apart. It isn’t perfect, but it seems to be doing the trick.

Howdy! LC and her Oilman live in the ‘burbs north of Austin, TX. She is a real estate broker, but you won’t find her face on a bus bench and she doesn't drive a Cadillac. Oilman works in Texas as a Completions Consultant. Don’t worry, most people don’t know what that title means either. LC calls him frac guru, for short. She may be the only woman in America that hated both "Twilight" AND "50 Shades of Grey". Oilman and LC like wine, good music, their two dogs, and cervezas in Central America. Follow the adventures of LC and Oilman at: www.LivingOilfieldLife.com or on Instagram at: living_oilfield_life